Bad Moon Rising
by Fracus
Summary: Don't go round tonight, its bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise. please read and reviewPreFDTD M for violence, langu. and poss. latersexuality
1. Prologue: 'Bad Moon Rising'

Author's Note: I do not own any part of the movie 'From Dusk Till Dawn'. In addition, please read the introduction it may seem like blathering but it is important to the story, if it bores you I implore you to continue reading because the following chapters much more action driven and the Gecko brothers come into play. Please remember to review! Enjoy.

She turned her eyes upward to watch a dusty gray sparrow flit listlessly in the seething dessert wind. It was a phantom moment; one of those transitions of complete serenity. All sounds were muted and time was stilled. Surrender so pure in nature that it could only be, as the tolling of a bell, an arch into a new chapter the end of which could not be foreseen. She crossed the street and watched the sparrow.

Or watched the sparrow and crossed the street.

She watched the sparrow.

She didn't hear the Fogerty brothers twang inside her headphones or the nondescript chime of a bell signaling a person's exit from Ruby's Diner. She watched the sparrow, till the first page in a new book opened; one she had never intended to be written into. She watched the sparrow till the car knocked the wind out of her lungs, the blood out of her nose, the marrow out of her bones, the feet out of her cruddy trainers. The car clipped her outstretched leg mid-step and knocked her over and on to the hood. The windshield made a dull crunch as her left shoulder slammed the protective glass making a violent spider web of cracks. The car abruptly halted and she rolled off the edge of the hood and her face said a bloody hello to the unyielding pavement. There was pain; immutable and all encompassing. Her face was slick with blood like a new born and she lay motionless on the ground, eyes closed. If she never opened them it didn't have to be real. The warm blood pooling under her face, the ripped and broken fingers, the arm that inside was now a puzzle of chalk white splinters; it didn't have to be real if she never opened her eyes. But the noise couldn't be helped. The noise burst upon her like the sun to one blind.


	2. At the Intersection

Author Note: I do not own any part of the movie 'From Dusk Till Dawn'. I had a lot of fun writing this I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. Please remember to review.

"My hand! My Fucking hand! Goddamn that fucking prick shot me. God fucking damn it!"

Ritchie sat in the passenger seat, his thick framed glasses askew, cradling his bleeding hand.

"Hey! Calm down."

Seth gripped the wheel beside him; glancing over at his younger brother as he tried to get a hold on the situation.

"He shot a hole in my hand."

The light in front of them winked from yellow to read and, glancing around Seth brought the car to a precarious idle. Ritchie lifted his porous, bloody hand. Seth could see clean through the hole to the Kahhuna burger advertisement that blinked and gleamed in the fading light on the opposite side of the road.

"Hey, listen to me." Seth began trying to keep it together.

The light winked suddenly back to green and they continued on.

"Don't tell me to listen Seth! Is there a goddamn-"

"That's not listening, Ritchie. Listen to me ok, just shut up and listen for one goddamn second? We don't have time to deal with that right now. I know it hurts but you know what would hurt even more the fucking electric chair. Do you want that? Do want us fucking dead?"

Ritchie whose head had been on his knees enveloped in the pain straightened up and silently, vehemently shook his head.

"No, I didn't think so. There some Dutch tape in the glove compartment that should do for now."

Ritchie grimaced and kicked open the glove compartment. He rifled around for a roll of silver duct tape. Seth looked at the road, but his mind was on his brother. He could smell the blood. Not that neither of them had never bleed before. They had both had their fair share of wounds and inflicted a great deal more in retribution. The blood came with the territory, but the smell of it never ceased to bother Seth. He could deal with his own just fine, but his brother's was a different story. They were all each other had.

"Fuck!"

Ritchie exclaimed as he began to wrap the hand. Seth couldn't stop. They had just robbed a small mom and pop store on the out skirts of town. They left no survivors, especially after Ritchie had been shot. Even when Seth had knocked the kid out so he couldn't call the police. After the old man shot Ritchie, he wasn't interested in not getting caught as much as retaliation. Retaliation ten fold; a bullet through Ritchie's hand was a bullet in the father's head, mother's jaw and unconscious son's heart. Seth didn't understand it, but he understood Ritchie, which was as close as he wanted to get.

The main street was motionless like a ghost town; the ardent placid made Seth uneasy. No cars obstructed their path. It may not be long now till they heard the all too familiar tune of the sirens begin to wail; till they were hunted again. The stores flashed by melding together like an orgy of Middle America whipping by the window.

"Jesus, slow down will you? This is a fucking residential road you know? The speed limits like 25 or some shit, not 60. Lets not get caught speeding."

Seth shook his head, Ritchie was right. No matter how clouded his brothers head could be, rays of logic pierced through the din at the most opportune times. He slowed and glanced up instinctively at the rearview mirror. It had been shot off weeks ago, all the mirrors had been over time. Yet, he was still glancing up at it like a phantom limb.

"Look behind us to see if we're being followed."

"Jesus Christ, Seth. If some fucking pig was following us don't you think that we would hear sirens?" Ritchie asked examining his makeshift bandage.

"Ritchie, just do it Goddamn it. This isn't 20 questions."

"Seth who gives a shit if they're following us? Even with this tape I'm still about to fucking bleed out because of that goddamn asshole back there anyway. Look at this shit its all over the fucking seats now! Damn it."

Ritchie began to search the glove compartment anew for something to wipe the stains the blood left on the cream colored leather.

"Goddamn it Ritchie." Seth muttered half-heartedly and turned from the road and searched the horizon behind him for black and white.

When Seth had gotten his license a woman whose son died in a car crash came and gave a speech. She said it only takes a second. No, less than a second. You look away to change the radio, to turn on the heat, to smile at your friend and that's all it takes. You look away to scan the diminishing vista behind you and that's all it takes.

"Holy shit! Seth! Stop!" Ritchie's voice reached him only seconds before the kid's shoulder partially broke through the windshield. Seth jammed his heel on the break and car lurched unceremoniously to a halt. The kid's limp body reeled off the hood; violently receding from his sight like a hurricane wave from the beach.

"What the-" Seth gripped the wheel. _Control; get your shit together. Seth_.

Ritchie as if in a trance reached out and touched the cracked windshield where the kid had just been.

"Still warm." He commented with mild interest.

_Shift into drive and get the fuck out of here. The kid is like all the others. Drive the car. This isn't the same as what happened back then. This is different; this time it doesn't matter. Drive the car. They don't matter. You matter. Ritchie matter. They don't._

Seth's body acted of its own volition. Like a marionette his movements composed by an external force he opened the door and stepped out.

"Um, Seth? You might want to get back in the car. Seth…" Ritchie lean over the drivers seat trying to get his older brother's attention.

Seth walked to the fender and looked down at the kid. It was a girl. Her face was covered by a badly scraped arm. The arm was wrongly angled; bent where it ought to have been straight. Her shirt had been hiked up by the collision and successive fall leaving her hip bare. Regardless of what the previous color of the skin had been like it was now re-imagined with bluish bruises faintly beginning to bubble to the surface. Her socks were on, shoes off. Her legs twined about one another like crossed fingers. She wasn't moving except for breath. Void of thought he stooped and pulled her shirt down till it met the top of her jeans, covering her.

Noise burst upon him like sun to one blind.

"Seth!" Ritchie screamed as he laid on the squealing horn.

_Bang _


	3. Late Monday

Author's Note: I own no part of the film, "From Dusk Till Dawn".

_Mondays tended to be t__he worst days for crime. Why is that? Why did people always got to go see God and then mess it all up. Why perpetuate the cycle? You're free of sins on Sunday, but that doesn't mean that on Monday you can go make up for all that purity. Monday afternoon, if only Jesus could skip it all and hasten to Tuesday. Then again Tuesday is the second worst day for crime in Waco. Too bad there couldn't be a constant Sunday. Too bad. Oh well, at least I work Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Avoid all that heresy, well for the most part._

"You bout done here Sheriff?" the waif of a woman with sensible shoes on asked gesturing to his empty plate.

The Sheriff looked up from his revelry.

"Mrs. Ruby, how many time am I gonna have to ask you to call me Donnie?" Donald Owens asked giving the waitress a mock incredulous look.

"About as many more times as it takes for you to remember its 'Ms.' not 'Mrs.'. I ain't that old yet." She returned her hands on her hips.

"I never meant to be doin' that Ms. Ruby. You don't look a day over twenty to me anyhow." Donald said a young lover's twinkle in his green eyes.

"Well, that may be but the lines on my face tell another story. Now, are you gonna be wanting anything else?" She replied cynically.

"One day Ms. Ruby you are gonna sit down with me and eat." Donald prophesized undeterred.

"As long as we don't bullshit around like we do every damn day I wouldn't say I'm opposed to the idea." She said.

"Well, bullshit makes the world go round or didn't you know?" Donald replied.

"Jeez Donnie there you go again tripping over your own feet. For such a smart talking man I'm starting to think you're a damn fool." She said shaking her head. "Now, do you want anything else?"

"No." Donald said. "Thank you."

Ruby collected his plate and cup. She turned from him and as if unsatisfied turned back to his table.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long day. That wasn't right of me." She said.

"No its ok Ruby. Not much truth gets said round here." Donald replied as he rose from his seat. "Thanks for dinner. Tomorrow I'll do right between us."

"No need Donnie; it always has been, always will be." She said smiling at him knowingly.

"You have a good night." He said and waved to her from the door.

The bells chimed as he exited on the street. He went to his car and felt for the keys in his pocket. As he was inserting the key into the driver side door he heard car wheels screech to halt. He looked up and saw a girl aberrantly splayed out across the pavement in front of an idling car. Seth Gecko stepped out of the car and stood looking at her limp frame. Seth Gecko had been all over the police airwaves. He and his brother were blazing a trail of blood across the South. They were notorious for killing law enforcement officers and civilians alike without discrimination. As he had been taught in basic training Donald acted on instinct. He withdrew his holstered pistol and aimed at criminal just as the sound of sirens reached his ears and the other Gecko laid on the horn screaming at his brother.

"Seth!"

_Bang_

Author's Note: The true wheels of the story have been set in place and in the coming chapters will begin to spin full speed; I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Opinions, suggestions, comments, questions, criticisms- please let me know by reviewing. Thanks.


	4. Dangling on the Hook

_Bang_

Seth could feel the bullet's speed as it barreled past him only inches from his left ear.

"Fuck!"

_Bang Bang Bang_

Ritchie answered the gunmen with a flurry of bullets.

"You Motherfucker!" Ritchie screamed leaning out the passenger door window.

The gunmen, a plain clothed man in his forties collapsed behind his car, shot. Red and blue flashing lights appeared two stop lights down. More bullets whizzed past Seth. Impulsively he grabbed the girl around the waist and pulled her with him behind the fender. She screamed in pain when he moved her, but only a sudden wretch then it became too much articulate the sensation any longer.

"Seth?! Get the fuck in the car before we're cornered! Seth!" Ritchie yelled above the commotion.

Seth yanked the gun out of his pants and held the girl close to him. _Breath._

"Ritchie get in the driver seat and put the car put it in D!"

Quickly as he could Seth got to his feet holding the girl against him, her head lolled against his shoulder. Her blood streaked the side of his face, but he held on his pistol against her temple with resolve. The firing stopped from the cops when they saw a hostage had been taken, but Ritchie continued his onslaught of bullets covering his older brother. Seth ducked behind the car and flung himself and the girl head first into the backseat.

"Go!" Seth screamed. Ritchie slammed his foot on the pedal and the car blared down the main drag directly at the two oncoming squad cars.

Ritchie was crazy no doubt, but it had its advantages. No cop had ever out maneuvered him in a chase. No one could match him at chicken, but then again he had no sense of fear so it was hardly a fair game. Seth ducked down and waited. He turned his head to the side and looked at the girl. She had fallen between the front and back seat in the abrupt entrance moments earlier. Her left arm was tangled underneath; her arching her back grotesquely. Her mouth swallowed the air in huge gasps and she seemed to be speaking a silent phrase to herself over and over. Impossibly large, glassy brown eyes gaped unblinkingly at him. They examined one another for a long time. Seth couldn't recall the last time he had looked frankly into the eyes of another human being. Looking another man in the eyes for too long made you lose something in yourself; give something away you weren't prepared to. Seth didn't want to give anything away, but he sure as hell was gonna take what he could and run.

That's what he and Ritchie were doing anyway. But he looked into her eyes fixedly for a long time. There was no understanding or truce between them. It would have been folly to think that their staring made them see eye to eye in any other sense than the literal. They both just lay there knowing only that they were uncertain, as in every day. Seth had known this since he was young, since the morning he didn't drop Ritchie off at school. The morning he drove away from his home with only his brother and a pile of cash he had nicked of his dad's dresser. He knew then so his eyes were not glossy with tears when he stared down at the crumpled girl. The girl's were though, glossy like a fish dangling from a hook; brimming to the lashes with bleak comprehension. Uncertainty was the only constant to hold on to; paradox though it may be.


	5. Formal Introductions

_Author's Note: I don't own anything from the movie "From Dusk Til Dawn"_

_So it's been a while but I really wanted to be careful with this chapter since it's the first time that the kid speaks and I thought that that was pretty pivotal. Since I set the story PreFDTD I modified Seth's 'hostage' speech a bit b/c I figured he'd be less polished since he's a bit younger than in the movie. Also, I hate how so many female characters are all bitchy and unrealistically tough- I am going for realism with the kid's reactions, but that doesn't mean she's not strong or is going to be a hollow character. I hope you enjoy and please review. _

Three hours later the car rolled to halt in a gravel parking lot of a small motel.

"Charming." Ritchie quipped smartly.

Seth could tell it was going to be a top of the line hell hole just by the façade of the rooms. The walls which were once whitewashed were now all yellowing with age and no one seemed to care too much to do anything about it. The most of the doors were naked pine, never been painted. Windows were busted; curtains hang askew in the rooms that had them at all. A door flapped open and closed in the steamy pre-storm wind. It was gonna be a hell hole alright, but that's what Seth intended on, luxury was second to obscurity.

"Come on." Seth said shifting into park and climbing out of the car.

"Do you think its ok to leave the kid alone?" Ritchie asked peering into the back window.

Seth thought for a moment and then opened the back door. Only a black outline of the girl could be discerned, still and silent, but Seth could feel her awareness like electricity in the black, it snapped and popped fervently. On the dark floor she was staring back at him; waiting. He closed the door.

"So?" Ritchie asked.

"I'll deal with the room you get the shit out of the trunk, and have a smoke. I'll be back in a second." Seth replied already making his way across the parking lot. The main office tinged in yellow light and hazy with smoke.

"Hello." Seth greeted the old man at the counter with a curt but polite nod. "I need a room for two for one night."

"That'll be twenty-four dollars. Check out time is noon tomorrow. There's ice in the machine by the pool, mind you the pool is dry, so it's only good for known' where the ice machine is. If you'll be needing anything else you best ask now because there won't be no one round here after twelve, that's when I get off. Will that be all?" the leather skinned man asked, offering the key to Room six to Seth.

"Actually, I would like to be in one of the farther rooms if it's not too much trouble?" Seth asked, oozing a manner of steep courtesy.

The hotel manager stared at Seth for a moment. Seth looked back; his eyes focused on the Virginia Slim advertisement peeking out behind the manager's right ear.

"I don't think that it's such a hot ideal Mister." The man began slowly.

Seth's hand rested on the handle of his gun just peeking over the top of his black pants.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that sir." Seth replied watching the man's tough face twitch.

"You're gonna be awful far from that ice machine." The manager said replacing Key six and picking up Key fifteen.

"I can live without." Seth replied taking the Key from the manager.

He stalked out of the office and crossed the parking lot toward the parked car. Ritchie was leaning on the bumper smoking earnestly. He flicked the cigarette onto the ground as he noticed Seth approaching.

"How'd you make out?" Ritchie asked.

"Only the best for you." Seth said tossing the keys to his brother.

"Twelve? Hmm." Ritchie said eyeing the door they were parked in front of, thirteen. "Well, how very _conven-i-ent_."

"Go open it up, will you. I'm gonna get the kid out." Seth said.

"You won't need any help with that?" Ritchie asked expectantly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"The door, Ritchie." Seth commanded.

Ritchie put his hands up in a defensive gesture and walked over to room twelve.

Seth opened the back door and ducked his head in. His fingers felt about like a blind man's over brail, till the tips brushed blood stiffened skin.

She murmured a barely audible protested and the warmth momentarily left his hand as she strained to distance herself.

The car ride had given her too much time to ruminate on the situation. She had imagined a million horrors and now when reality swept lightly against her cheek she realized how imagining them hadn't prepared her in the least. Seth clamped her mouth shut with one hand and scooped his other underneath her struggling frame. Her legs thrashed weakly like a lazy swimmer. Seth carried her through the open door and dropped her down on the off-white bedspread. Ritchie slammed the door shut and used the deadbolt chain to lock it. Relinquishing his grip on her mouth she heaved in a lungful of air. Seth grabbed a wooden chair and sat opposite to the bed. Ritchie hovered over by the windows searching the chill blackness just inches outside of the thin glass for any sings of life.

"What's you're name kid?" Seth asked.

She was silent, staring hard at her bloody, cracked fingertips.

Seth leaned back and sighed openly in annoyance.

"Look. I have a gun." Seth pulled a shiny black pistol from his pants and placed the muzzle on the kid's knee. The crisp click of the trigger spoke a language of fear and damnation uniquely its own.

"I want to go. I can't be here. I want to- I have to get-" A rush of words spilled from her marred face; ill rehearsed lines from a soon to be edited script.

"No." Seth cut in, now directing his gun at her face. "No, this is not the time for what you want. This is the time for me to get what I want. And I want you're name."

"Please, don't-" She started.

"I don't think we understand one another. I ask questions, you give answers." Seth said slowly and patiently so that every word fulfilled its complete capacity to inspire terror. "It's not a very complicated set up. You want to live through this whole thing; I suggest you get on board. Now, what's your name?"

She looked up from her fingertips and said with stoic, though fragile, steadiness, "Hawthorne Hart."

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Ritchie asked leaning against the window the sight of his gun teasingly played over her chest.

"It's a family name. What the hell kind of name is 'Ritchie' anyway" She retorted. Her words and the bite behind them came in sudden surge like a shaken bottle of pop that had finally been opened. Ritchie blinked, shocked by the kid's sudden bravado. After a split second he snapped from his paralysis and moved to from the window toward the motionless frightened kid. Without removing his eyes from the kid Seth stuck out a firmly intentioned arm halting Ritchie's progress.

Seth had almost smiled at the kid's grit, but stopped himself. This wasn't funny. Seth had noted the dangerous flame that had momentarily flickered from within the depths of her eyes.

"You got a middle name?" Seth asked.

"Odette." She said.

"Well, there aren't too many Hawthorne's around here so you're Odette. Clear?" He asked not waiting for a response. "This is how this whole thing is going to work. You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not ask questions. You do what we tell you when we tell you. You run and we kill you. Are we clear?" He asked cocking his head to the side to catch her hazel colored eyes.

"Yes." She breathed.

"Good." Seth said getting off the chair and turning to his brother. "Ritchie take the car and go get some food."

"What about my fucking hand? You think no one's gonna notice?" Ritchie asked holding out his blood crusted hand to further illustrate his point.

"Just do the drive through." Seth replied.

"Jesus! Fine. I'll be back." Ritchie said caving in. He picked the car keys off the table and exited the room.

The kid jumped at the sound of the door bang shut. She balled her badly scraped fingers into stiff and defiant fists and sat patiently eyeing Seth. He held the curtain away from the window and watched his brother recklessly pull out of lot, dust fuming in his wake. The curtain was stained reddish brown, her blood.

"You're a fucking mess kid," Seth said examining his hands.

He turned from the window to face her.

"Jesus what a fucking day." He said, almost more to himself than the kid, as he removed his black jacket and kicked his scuffed shoes off.

"No!" She blurted out her voice suddenly strangled. She put up her fists at attention shielding her chest; the gesture was almost comical in her pathetic state. Seth furrowed his brow, but gazing at the sight of her torn hands pressing protectively against her humble breasts he summarily understood. Heat rippled through Seth as he lightly flushed with embarrassment and disgust at the thought.

"Jesus Christ kid! What the fuck do you think I am?" Seth asked as he retrieved the jacket from the chair and replaced it on his tan shoulders. Her silence spoke for itself. Seth could tell she was about to lose it. He didn't want to see that shit, for more than one damn good reason.

"Get up." He commanded his voice returning from affronted to collected.

She stood solemnly, her eyes meeting his. She flinched as his finger closed around her damaged upper arm.

"Move." He said jabbing the pistol into her back, pushing her toward the bathroom door.

_P.S..: I want to keep writing this story, but I'm not posting another chapter till I can get a bit of feedback, even if its just to say that someone out there is reading and wants to have the story continue; I want it to and I hope there's someone else out there that does too. Please review._


	6. Seeing Inside

Author's Note: I don't own any of "From Dusk Til Dawn"

There was a brief moment when Odette stood just inside the darkened bathroom and was far from it all. The black was a deep canvas and for a breath she imagined a fiction. She was laying in her bed sleeping safely, the darkness a warm glove about her. Suddenly the lights popped to life and a harsh florescent reality buzzed about her. She felt the gun nuzzled insistently against her spine and she walked forward. The bathroom was free of opulence. The only objects in the room were ones that couldn't be carried away: bathtub, toilet, sink, mirror. The tub stood naked without a curtain protecting its chastity. Ambiguous stains made a ring near the rim of the bath. Odette walked to the edge of the tub as far from the man as she could. She stood there staring at the wall her sinew was tight, too ratcheted up to move. The gun left her back and the door snapped shut loudly; her body jolted uncontrollable. She was going to fall into the bathtub and bleed from her mouth and chest. She would be able to see inside herself for the first and last time; clean white bones, yellowish breast tissue, redness. Redness; viewed from behind a thin film of tears. Those tears were filling her eyes now, in preparation. She didn't want to be face down in the tub like a dog. She wasn't going to die like a dog. So silent, she had been silent for too long.

_"Jesus Christ kid! What the fuck do you think I am?" He asked scorching blood coloring his cheeks._

_"An Animal!" The her gagged tongue had lashed, silently. _

She had been too silent and now she was looking at the last room. With its pissed on walls and chipped sink. She wasn't going to die like a dog. Madly, perhaps, she decided to greet death like a sweet hostess. There was a form of bravery in that at least. Odette turned to face it. She blinked the hot tears from her eyes and turned to see a penetrating barrel staring back.

AN: So that was short and bleak. I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, but the holidays have been insane and it took me a while to write from Odette. I kept it short because I feel like her emotions and thoughts would be raging so much that writing a good portion from her perspective would take forever and perhaps be wearisome to read as well. I just wanted to give her some humanity because she is more than meets the eyes, as you will see. If you liked it/hated it let me know because I'm not even sure how I feel. Much more later:) R&R please!


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